


Sweet as Sugar

by doctorbuffypotterlock79



Category: RuPaul's Drag Race (US) RPF
Genre: Bakery AU, F/F, Fluff, Lesbian AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-21
Updated: 2021-03-21
Packaged: 2021-03-23 16:21:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,049
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30058227
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/doctorbuffypotterlock79/pseuds/doctorbuffypotterlock79
Summary: Vanessa is a cafe owner who finds herself instantly crushing on the new bakery owner across the street
Relationships: Brooke Lynn Hytes/Vanessa Vanjie Mateo
Comments: 12
Kudos: 20





	Sweet as Sugar

**Author's Note:**

> Bakery au is finally here! Every time I was about to get this finished and ready for posting, I got distracted by another fic I wanted to write. It's finally here, and I hope you enjoy! Thank you to Writ for betaing and encouraging me to finally finish!

It’s raining the day the new bakery owner arrives across the street, and Vanessa watches it all through the rain-splattered glass of her cafe windows. It’s cozy and warm in here, the customers chatting while they munch on their sandwiches, and Vanessa’s glad to be safe behind the counter instead of out in that mess.

She can’t ignore the little twinge in her chest as she watches the owner--a tall blonde woman--emerge into the pouring rain and sort through stuff in her trunk. _She must be freezing_ , Vanessa thinks, watching the woman finish with her car and move to fiddling with the bakery door’s lock and a box she’s carrying, before finally setting the box down and using both hands to play with the lock. A minute later, the keys slip out of her hand and into a puddle, and Vanessa bites her lip. 

“Someone needs to help that woman,” she says to A’keria, who’s busy stocking the case of to-go sandwiches. “She can’t even get her damn door open.”

A’keria blinks and looks down at herself. “You better not mean me,” she says. “You know how much I hate rain. Have Kameron do it. She has muscles.” 

“I’m pretty sure her and Asia are up to something since they mysteriously went on break together.” Vanessa sighs, just hoping those two are back before the lunch rush. “I’ll just do it myself.” She grabs her raincoat and stomps to the door. Vanessa’s a helper, and she’s volunteered at too many church functions with her mom to just leave this woman struggling, even if she has to get rained on.

Vanessa's boots squelch as she reaches the sidewalk. “Hey there,” she says to the woman, who jumps about a foot in the air. 

“Sorry, just--you scared me,” the woman says, grabbing at her heart. Her sweater is soaked through with rain and she’s shivering, blonde hair damp and messy, but she’s still beautiful, with soft green eyes and wide lips that look like they might quirk up mischievously sometimes. Vanessa spends a few seconds just taking her in, heart racing.

“You look like you could use some help,” Vanessa says, remembering why she came here. 

“Me? I’m fine.” The woman waves her off. 

Vanessa puts her hands on her hips. “I could see you struggling from across the dang street.”

“I guess I was.” The blonde sighs. “I just can’t get this key to work,” she says, holding up a key ring soaked with dirty puddle water. 

“Let me try,” Vanessa offers. The blonde’s hands are baker’s hands, their slight roughness smoothed over with lotion, a still-healing burn mark near her wrist likely from pulling a hot pan out of the oven, an injury Vanessa knows too well. They’re also shaking from the cold as she passes Vanessa the key, and Vanessa’s heart softens in sympathy. No wonder she couldn’t get her door open.

Vanessa plunges the key in the lock and twists and turns until it clicks, pulling the door open with a whoop of joy. 

“I loosened it for you,” the woman says.

Vanessa shakes her head. “That’s for jars, not doors!” She laughs, scooping up the woman’s box and ushering her inside. 

Vanessa’s eyes widen when she sees the inside of the place. This little building has been home to dog grooming businesses and then to pizza businesses that did nothing to mask the wet dog smell and then to shoe stores that not only did nothing to mask the wet dog and tomato smell, but also added feet to the mix. Vanessa watched moving trucks drive up and pull away through her cafe windows, wondering if the next person would stick around. 

It seems this woman wants to, and she’s completely transformed the place. Gone are the muddled dog/tomato/feet smells, as are the cracks in the wall Vanessa remembers from when she went shoe shopping. Instead, everything’s been painted a soothing lavender, with black silhouettes of baked goods--cupcakes and cookies and donuts--framing the top part of the wall. There’s a big counter with a glass case waiting to be filled, and tables and chairs stacked along the walls. 

“It’s beautiful in here,” Vanessa says. 

The blonde blushes. “Thanks. And thank you for your help, um…”

“Vanessa,” Vanessa says quickly. “I’m Vanessa.”

“Brooke.” She takes the box from Vanessa and sets it on the counter, eyes roaming around the room and a grin breaking out on her face. Vanessa recognizes the feeling--it’s the same one she had three years ago, when she couldn’t believe her cafe was really hers. 

“When do you open?” Vanessa asks. 

“Two weeks, if everything goes to plan. Just need to get the rest of the equipment in and finish everything up.”

Vanessa nods, hovering by the door awkwardly. There’s no reason for her to stay, but she can’t quite make herself leave. She wants to keep talking to Brooke, find out more about her. She watches Brooke blow on her hands to thaw them and an idea pops into her head. 

“Hey, why don’t you come to my cafe and have coffee or something and warm up?” Vanessa offers. 

Brooke smiles. “Lead the way.”

\---

Vanessa sits with Brooke at the corner table right below the heat vent, watching her sip coffee and eat Vanessa’s famous grilled cheese and tomato sandwich. 

“This is really good, Vanessa,” Brooke says, and Vanessa beams. She can’t help it. Even after three years of having her little cafe, watching people enjoy her food still warms her heart like the first time she made her mom pancakes and watched her devour them all. Everything Vanessa knows about cooking comes from dragging a chair over to the counter and watching her mom make dinner, and now she gets to be the one cooking. 

“Thanks,” Vanessa says. “So, how’d you get into baking?”

Brooke finishes the last bite of her sandwich. “I always liked it. My grandma and I would make something whenever she babysat for me.” She pauses, sips her coffee. “I never went to culinary school or anything, but I’d make stuff for my friends a lot. Somehow they convinced me to start a little home business, and it kind of exploded. I started saving to have my own bakery, and now I do.” She gives a shy little smile that makes Vanessa melt. 

“What about you?” Brooke asks. 

Vanessa grins. “I basically ran a sandwich shop out of my dorm in college. The dining hall food was disgusting, so my mom got me a little panini press, and I started making grilled cheese and stuff for me and my roommates. Word got around and suddenly I was cooking for the whole building!” 

Those had been some of her best days in college—people lined up and down the hall waiting for their sandwiches, bopping to the beat of the radio she had blasting and talking to her as she worked, even bringing their own ingredients for custom orders. And the best part of all: watching them bite into their sandwiches, closing their eyes and groaning about how good it was, like they were in a fancy restaurant and not a cinder block college dorm.

Brooke laughs, and Vanessa would do anything to hear that sound again. 

“Somewhere in all that, I realized I loved cooking. It was exciting and relaxing at the same time, you know? So I did a bunch of restaurant jobs until I could finally open this place.” 

Brooke nods. “It’s really nice here. Did you do all the decorating yourself?”

Vanessa glances around at the wall of framed posters bearing her favorite movies and singers, the fairy lights lining the walls, the fuzzy pom-pom banner draped in front of the counter, and nods proudly. “And the menu too. All the sandwiches are stuff I came up with myself.”

Brooke whistles. “That’s a lot of sandwiches.” 

“Tell me about it. Took me months to come up with them all.” Vanessa must have tested hundreds of sandwiches in those months, adding and taking away and re-adding ingredients so many times her friends and family would run the other way when they saw her coming with samples. But after hours remixing and experimenting, her kitchen transformed into a science lab, Vanessa finally had her menu.

“I like it though,” Vanessa continues. “Trying new things and testing them out. Doing my own thing, you know? You can’t really do that with baking. Tried to do my own thing making a cake once and the thing exploded. I was cleaning my oven for days.” 

Brooke laughs. “I get it. I think I like baking because of the rules. There’s certain things you have to follow, yeah, but such good stuff comes from it. And it’s--it’s kinda amazing how some of the techniques haven’t changed in hundreds of years.”

“You’re right,” Vanessa says. “I never thought of it like that. Making stuff’s always been special to me. It’s like making someone food is—“

“It’s like saying I love you.” Brooke blushes at what she’s just said and Vanessa does too. 

“Yeah.”

There’s a beat so silent Vanessa hears A’keria muttering to herself about Vanessa’s extra-long break while she wrestles with a pile of spoons. Brooke looks at her empty plate and stands. 

“I, uh, I should go. Got a lot of work to do.”

“Right.”

Brooke pulls out her wallet. “How much for--”

Vanessa waves her off. “On the house.” She smiles. “I wouldn’t say no to a chocolate cupcake once you open, though.” 

Brooke grins. “You got it.”

She heads out, and Vanessa does more staring out the window than working for the rest of the day.

\---

The next two weeks fly by. A’Keria takes over Vanessa’s spot in the window when a muscled moving crew hauls in Brooke’s equipment. Vanessa chases A’keria away for the rest, watching Brooke pace around inside her bakery, rearranging chairs and tables more times than Vanessa thought possible, sweeping with the ferocity of a hockey player, and talking to two girls Vanessa assumes are her assistants. Vanessa imagines Brooke’s delicate hands carefully piping frosting onto cupcakes or icing intricate designs on sugar cookies and has to smile. 

Brooke’s been so busy that Vanessa hasn’t seen much of her, and she tells herself the little ache in her chest is just two weeks’ worth of heartburn. Brooke does stop in and asks Vanessa if she can put business cards and flyers on her community bulletin board, and Vanessa barely breathes as she and Brooke tack them up between advertisements for dance classes and library events, their shoulders brushing all the while. 

It seems that all the flyers and advertising worked—the day Brooke opens, there’s a line of people stretched down the sidewalk, and Vanessa beams with pride for her. She knows how hard it can be to have a cafe, knows how amazing and necessary the customers are. She wants Brooke to succeed just as much as she has. 

She watches all day as the line moves and people come out with bright white boxes and even brighter smiles. 

Vanessa is closing up for the day when there’s a knock at the door. Lord help her if these are people ignoring the clear-as-day _Closed_ sign to demand that she serves them. 

But it’s not a pushy customer—it’s Brooke, with a tiny box in her hand and a huge smile on her face. 

Vanessa grins too, her heart leaping in her chest. 

“Big day for you, huh,” Vanessa says, guiding her into the cafe. 

“Yeah.” Brooke sighs, rubbing at tired eyes. “I’m exhausted, but in the best way, you know?” 

“I do.” 

Brooke smiles again, and she offers the box to Vanessa. 

“Is this—“

“I keep my promises.” 

Vanessa opens the box to see a huge chocolate cupcake with swirled chocolate frosting dotted with tiny buttercream roses. There’s a little fondant tag on top, with something written in impeccably neat red icing. It’s a phone number, and Vanessa looks up at Brooke in wonder. 

“If you want it, I mean,” Brooke clarifies, pointing to the number. 

“Oh, I do.”

Brooke’s grin reaches her ears. 

“Wanna go out for dinner this weekend?” Vanessa asks hopefully. 

Brooke can’t nod fast enough. “I’ve got dessert covered.”

**Author's Note:**

> I have some half-formed ideas that need work, so I’m not sure when I’ll have something out, but stay tuned!


End file.
